El Regreso
by turtlebleus
Summary: When Spencer returns after two years abroad, Ashley struggles to reconcile her own conflicting feelings of guilt and abandonment.
1. Chapter 1

"You're late," Lindsey told me pointedly, as I sat down across from her.

"Well hellooo to you too. Sorry, I got held up at the office."

"I'm starving so I just ordered us both Cobb salads."

"Sounds good. So… you're a week and a half away from the big 3-0. How does it feel?" I asked.

"Ugh, do not remind me."

"Come on, you're not that old."

"Easy for you to say. You just turned 27."

"Exactly. I'm almost as old as you are and I do _not_ like to think of myself being close to old. Therefore, 30 is not that old," I reasoned.

"Whatever, grandma. Scott made the reservation for my birthday though, finally. We have a table at Tower, 10pm. Tell everyone we both know because I'm sure he'll forget people." Scott, her fiancé, was a sweet guy but was never great with these kinds of things. He was a journalist for Rolling Stone, while she ran an after-school program for underprivileged kids at which I'd taught music classes. Her dad had been the drummer in Purple Venom, my dad's old band; we'd known each other when we were little, but only became good friends a couple years ago, when we met again at a tribute event.

"Done."

"But enough about my descent into geriatric misery… Spencer's getting home soon."

"I am aware," I smirked.

"Just aware?"

"Obviously, I'm excited. I just don't want her to think I've been sitting around, waiting for her to get back."

"But you haven't seen her in, like, more than 2 years. I think you're allowed to show some kind of emotion about it," Lindsey argued. "What is it she's been doing again?"

"For the ten millionth time, she makes documentaries. Like, ones about social justice and stuff. She's been in Angola and Namibia."

"Oh yeah. You know you never really told me the whole Spencer story."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, sure the subject had been brought up.

"I mean, I've heard bits and pieces of it. You showed her the gay way in high school and then she went to Africa. Everything in between is kind of blurry."

"Well, what do you wanna know?"

"I don't know. Why'd you guys break up?" I was kind of surprised I'd never told her any of this before. Lindsey had become a close friend, if not my closest, and she knew a lot more about me than most did.

"I guess the first mistake was moving in together when we were 18. Like, we were really in love and having her there was incredible, but it was just too much too soon, you know? And I think she always regretted not being able to get that freshman year, dorm life experience. Sooo, when her junior year rolled around, she decided to go abroad all year."

"Where'd she go?"

"Chile. And I was in my needy phase, so obviously I was not happy about it. But Spencer wanted to do her own thing, so we just… ended it."

"Her idea?"

"Yep," I said. "We started hanging out again when she came back for senior year and I thought we were going to get back together. But I guess I had the wrong idea, because before anything could really happen, she decided she was going to go to New York for grad school; I told her I'd move to New York if we were going to give it another shot, but she… she told me not to. And I guess I just lost it then. I moved out of our old loft and into my house, throwing crazy parties all the time. I was drinking and clubbing… doing a lot of things I regret. It took awhile before I realized I was throwing my life away."

_I had been stalking the NYU academic calendar online. I knew Spencer would be home and briefly toyed with the idea of calling her up to get coffee, or something civil like that. But that just would not be my style these days and instead, I decided to liquor myself up for a night on the town. Again._

_I got as far as her first club of the night when I was drunk enough to call Spencer. It rang three times before I realized I was, in fact, still too sober and hung up the phone. Of course she called back; caller ID was a magical invention. It worked both ways though, and I did not pick up. Spencer left no voicemail._

_It took a couple hours, another club, and a few more drinks before I was truly ready for this call. This time, the phone rang and Spencer picked up._

"_Hello?"_

"_Spencer…" She'd actually picked up._

"_Are you okay?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_What's going on?"_

"_Nothing, I just… hi." Hi? I hadn't heard her voice in months and that was the best I could come up with? "I miss you."_

_Silence._

"_Can I see you?" I asked. "Like tonight? I can come over and we can just talk and-"_

"_Ashley, it's two in the morning and you're trashed."_

"_I need to see you, Spencer."_

"_No."_

"_Please, just… Spencer… please." I could feels the tears forming in the corners of my eyes as I listened to Spencer sigh._

"_I'm not doing this with you right now." And with that, the blonde hung up._

_Devastated, I proceeded to drink myself into oblivion, as per usual. An after-party ensued at my beachfront estate and pretty soon, my living room was filled with a few people I knew and a ton of people I didn't. Music was being played, drinks were being poured, lines were being snorted, and girls were abundant. This was all I needed, right? Wrong. I called again but this time she had turned off her phone. _

"_Hey, it's me. Um, I just… call me back the second you get this. I miss you so much, Spencer… and I just want to see you. And I know you're home 'cause I checked your school calendar online. Please call me back. I'm putting my phone on really loud so even if I'm sleeping I'll hear you. And my phone's like a… a fucking fire alarm when it's on really loud. So call me, okay? Or if you want, just come over when you wake up. My gate password and my alarm password are your birthday so I'll always remember it. The password, I mean… so I'll remember the password.. I'll remember your birthday too because-" The beep signaled that time had run out and, sighing, I turned my phone on loud before setting it next to my nightstand. And then went back to the party…_

_The following day, I awoke with barely a hangover. I silently thanked my father's excellent genes and quickly checked my phone. No missed calls, no messages. I cringed momentarily at my call and voice message to Spencer, but figured if anything, at least the blonde would know I was around if she wanted to see me. The day went on, however, with no word from Spencer. And when I went out again the following night, I left two more drunken voice messages begging to see her._

_Two mornings after my first attempt to contact her, I stepped into the living room, avoiding the few remaining partygoers who had passed out in various locations and put on a pot of coffee. I may or may not have woken up drunk._

"_I didn't know you got new roommates." The voice. I gripped the counter, nervous as anything, before turning around. Spencer was even more beautiful than the last time I'd seen her._

"_Hey."_

"_Ashley… what are you doing with yourself?"_

"_Um… making breakfast? Do you want anything? Coffee should be ready in a few minutes. Or maybe we could go out for breakfast?"_

"_Are you still drunk?"_

"_My treat?"_

"_I'm not going out for breakfast with you."_

"_Okay, well… here, sit down. I can make you chocolate chip pancakes. Still your favorite, right?"_

"_Ashley… no, I… you can't keep doing this."_

"_Doing what?"_

"_Everything. The late night drunken phone calls, begging me to see you. You just… you don't get it."_

"_What?"_

"_I broke up with you because I needed space, Ashley. I needed my independence back. And you… you need the same thing. You need to stop doing this crap, the drinking, the calling, and the- the clubbing every night… because if you want to start hanging out with me again, and going out for breakfast, and all of that, you need to be your own person. With your own life. Your own job, your own friends… you and me, we are different people. You can't just wait around for me all your life, Ashley. If you keep doing that, you're going to be waiting forever."_

I would never, ever forget that day. I ended up taking Spencer's advice to heart. I left L.A. and sobered up, doing a lot of thinking and soul-searching in the process. I was still songwriting on the side though and by the time Spencer finished grad school a year and a half later, two of my songs had reached the top-10 on the Billboards. I had my own office at a major record label and was in extremely high demand across the music industry, if I can say so myself. I'd even made friends…real friends… something that had never exactly come easily for me.

"So you haven't seen her since then?"

"No, I have. There was a party that some of the label bigwigs threw for me when my first song hit number one and I invited her. She couldn't make it but she called me up and we went out for coffee a couple times before she left."

"Coffee? No passionate, emotional sex?"

"Not quite," I dismissed her with a laugh.

"And she's coming back tomorrow?"

"Yeah…"

"I give it a week before you're doing the dirty. Just make sure you introduce me before you guys disappear in the bedroom for the next two years."


	2. Chapter 2

It was the ungodly (or so it would have seemed a mere few years ago) hour of 8 o'clock when I began my morning routine. First, it was the clichéd jog along the beach. Then, a shower, a bowl of Kashi cereal, and a freshly-brewed pot of Starbucks brand coffee. I was out the door by 9 at the latest and these days, I was rarely late. The drive to the office was ten minutes, fifteen with traffic which there always was, and a short elevator ride to the tenth floor.

"Morning Mark," I greeted the man behind the front desk.

"Good morning, Ash. Is that a new top?"

"Yup, you like?" I smirked, twirling around in jest.

"Looks hot!"

"You're not looking so bad yourself this morning, Marky." Mark swatted my hand away as I attempted to muss his hair.

"Easy, easy, a 'do like this does not just appear on my beautiful head every day." This earned him a laugh. "Oh yeah, you got another package!"

"From where?" I asked, although I probably could have guessed. No, scratch that, definitely could have guessed.

"Namibia, duh." Grinning to myself, I turned towards my office.

"I'll see ya later, Mark."

"Give Spencer my regards."

"Shut up!" I teased back. Upon entering my office, I spotted the small parcel Mark was talking about and immediately tore it open. A small, intricately designed replica of a zebra fell into my hand, along with a note.

'_Never be afraid to change your stripes._

_Love, _

_Spencer'_

I grinned again, musing about how typical-Spencer that was, and placed the zebra on my desk next to the small, framed picture I kept of the blonde.

Today was the day I'd been thinking about for the past two years. Spencer's flight was scheduled to have landed at around 7 this morning, but flights, especially from African countries, were rarely on time. Still, the thought that Spencer could potentially be in the same city as I was at the moment had been giving me butterflies since I'd woken up.

I did not want to call Spencer. Well, I _did_, but I wouldn't. I wanted Spencer to see how much I'd changed for the better over the past couple years. The old Ashley would have called Paula and Arthur, driven over the night before, and camped out in Spencer's bedroom until she returned. Okay, perhaps I wouldn't have been quite so desperate, but I certainly would have been calling the Carlin residence every 10 minutes from 7am on. The new Ashley knew better though. I didn't want to push her; I didn't want Spencer to think I'd been waiting around for her; and I definitely didn't want to bother her. Above all, though, I wanted Spencer to see that I had become exactly the person she'd described to me that morning so long ago- someone happy and independent, with my own friends, my own job, and my own life. Of course, the fact that I hadn't remotely gotten over her- hadn't even tried to do so- might complicate my ability to reflect this new, 'independent' persona. Just a little bit.

Suddenly, my office phone rang. The thought that it could be Spencer almost gave me a heart attack and I took a moment to brace myself before picking it up. Why she would be calling me on my office phone, I didn't take the time to consider.

"Hello?"

"Ash, it's Ethan." _Fuck my life_.

"Oh. What's up?"

"Well, I've got some interesting news for you. You know the demo you sent over? The 'Looks Like Rain' tape?" he asked.

"Yeah…"

"It's amazing. I love it, the sound guys love it, the execs love it… everyone who's heard it loves it. It's gonna be pure gold when it hits the radio."

"Um, thanks, but what's the problem?"

"That's the thing. Usually when writers send us tracks, they're really rough, occasionally pitchy and off-key, just blueprint-type things. What you sent us… and what you normally do send us… I mean, we could put that on the radio as is without a problem."

"Uh… so what you're saying is you want me to sing and play badly?" I questioned.

"No, Ash, you're not getting it. The label wants to release the demo you sent us, as a single, sung by you. Followed up by a c.d. of your originals, also sung by you. Are you interested?" I was stunned into silence. Since the disaster that was the "performance" with Kyla all those years ago, I'd played a handful of small clubs, but had all but given up on my own career as a performer. Sure, I enjoyed the whole songwriting gig, but even I couldn't deny that there was something special about singing my own songs in front of people other than Ethan, some friends, and the artists I was writing for. "Ash, you with me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just… I don't know. I've never really thought this would happen," I admitted.

"Come on, Ash. If things had been different with the whole Kyla lipsynching fiasco, you would be one of the most famous people in the country right now."

"Ethan…"

"I'm serious. If you want to do this, it's not too late to try."

"I'm 27 years old. That's, like, 60 in Hollywood."

"Come on, Ash, you know that's not true. Madonna's over 50 and she's still prancing around on stage in her underwear. You're golden. Besides, you have a great story to market… rock star's daughter rises to the top, against all odds, blah blah blah. And you're not too rough to look at, either."

"I… I need to think about it."

"Understandable. Can you get back to me tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" I replied in disbelief.

"How about next week?"

"Ugh, alright. I'll call you then."

"Great, talk to you later."

I wasn't stupid. It wouldn't be all roses and sunshine if I decided to do this. It'd be months of press, promotion, at least a small tour eventually… all the things I didn't have to worry about as a songwriter. But it definitely had its fair share of positives. I resolved to call Lindsey later and talk it over with her.

The beeping of my cell phone interrupted my train of thought. I had a text message, and something told me this was precisely what I had been waiting for. It was Spencer.

'Guess who's home?'

I smiled widely, suspicions confirmed, before replying. 'Welcome back! How was the flight?'

A few moments passed until I received a response. 'Long and boring. Jetlag sucks. But I wanna see you before I take a really long nap. Any chance you can stop by soon?'

YES YES YES, I wanted to respond. But I played it cool. 'Sure. Try to hold off on hibernating at least until I get to say hi.'

'Oh don't worry, I'm too excited to see you to be able to fall asleep just yet. Can't wait!'

The sound that I let out upon reading that could only be described as a squeal. Grabbing my bag and phone, I rushed out of the office and down to my car.


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, just take a deep breath_, I thought to myself, as I stood on the doorstep of the Carlin household. _You can do this. You're a mature, independent adult, and you-_

"Were you planning on knocking or were you just gonna stand there all day?" The door swung open, revealing a smirking Glen Carlin standing in the foyer.

"I was trying to figure out the best way to avoid you, but apparently my plan was foiled," I teased back, giving him a quick hug. Even after Spencer and I broke up, I would still have Sunday dinners with the Carlins every so often when she was away. They were the closest thing to a family I'd ever had.

"She's upstairs. Unpacking, I think. Mom's at work but I think my dad's upstairs too, somewhere. I'll catch you later though, I have to meet a client at eleven." Glen was a personal trainer, and a pretty successful one at that.

"Alright, see ya."

He elbowed my side on his way out the door and shut it behind him, leaving me standing awkwardly in the Carlin's family room. With butterflies in my stomach, I ascended the stairs. What sounded like strange African tribal drumming could be heard from the upstairs hallway and I smiled; Spencer had always had the most bizarre taste in music. Sometimes she would be begging me to get her the latest Kelly Clarkson album, and other times I'd come back to our loft to find her dancing around to Stevie Wonder, Tchaikovsky, or one time, a Cuban Bata drumming ensemble. Within moments, I found myself in front of an open door. She was facing the other way, dancing around to the music as she threw a t-shirt from a big duffel bag into her laundry basket. Her wet hair was longer, I noticed, but she seemed the same otherwise, at least from behind.

"Hey," I managed to get out. Spencer's head whipped around instantaneously and I was met with the bluest of eyes twinkling back at me. In a matter of seconds, Spencer had bounded over and, squealing, thrown her arms around me. And I was sure I'd never been hugged so tightly in all my life.

"Spence, I have to head to work but if you need… oh, I'm sorry," Arthur paused as he realized his daughter wasn't alone. We pulled apart at the intrusion.

"Hey Mr. C."

"Good to see you, Ash. Now that Spencer's back, you'll have to start coming over for dinner more often."

"I will," I responded with a grin. "Especially when you're making chili."

"Come this Sunday and you got it. I'm going to the office now but I should be home early, around 4."

"'Kay. Bye, Dad," she said, as he walked off and made his way downstairs. Hugging me again before she released me, she turned to me, smiling. "I have something for you."

"What?"

"Come here." Spencer grabbed my hand and pulled me over to her duffel bag, turning off the music in the process.

"Spence, you didn't have to get me anything. You already sent me so many gifts."

"I was going to send this to you but it was too big," she explained. Out from the duffel came what appeared to be a drum. "It's a traditional drum from this tribe we were living near. It takes them at least an entire five days of work, just to make one. I figured even if you never play it, it could be a decoration or something, too." I took it from her and set it down in front of me, playing a random rhythm for a few moments.

"I love it," I told her with a smile, which was promptly returned. "Thank you. But now I feel bad, I didn't bring any gifts!"

"You brought yourself," she grinned. We both stood up and sat on the edge of her bed. "Oh, and you're also going to take me out to eat."

"Am I?" I teased.

"Yep. Next week, maybe. As soon as I get my life in order. I don't get paid anything else until the doc is finished so I'm officially a starving artist."

"I guess I can pencil you in, then. Just to avoid the starvation part," I teased her. She smiled again, reminding me just how great Spencer smiles were. "What?"

"Nothing. I just missed you a lot and I'm happy to be home."

"Well I'm glad you're back. And I want to see pictures!" I said.

"Oh, trust me, I have, like, 15 disposable cameras I need to get developed. And then there's the little fact that I've been filming things over there for the past 2 years…"

"Good point. When do you start editing and stuff?" I asked.

"I don't know, I have a lot of leeway. I just have to have a finished product by mid-January so I still have a couple months. But I'm sick of talking about what I've been doing. What's new with you?" she asked, poking my shoulder as punctuation.

"Not too much at the moment. Well, that's a lie, I guess. I got this weird call today from Ethan… remember him? The producer?"

"Yeah."  
>"Sooo apparently, they want me to release my own album."<p>

"Ash! Are you serious? That's huge!"

"Yeah, well, that's why I'm not sure if I want to do it. I mean, it'd be great to sing my own songs and everything, but I like where I am right now, you know?"

"That's true. How long do you have to decide?"

"I have to get back to them by next week."

"Well, I'm sure you'll make the right decision," she assured me. "How's Kyla doing, by the way?"

"Good, good. She's in Australia right now, actually. Visiting her boyfriend's family."

"Oh, wow. She has a new boyfriend?"

"Yeah, Matt. He's a pro surfer, but he's surprisingly not a total idiot," I joked. "They've been together for a little over a year now and he treats her well, so… I can't complain, I guess."

"That's really great. What about Aiden?"

"He's working on Wall Street now so we don't really talk that much. But I think he likes it out there."

"It still weirds me out to think of all of us being this old," she mused, shaking her head.

"Hey, I don't know about you but I am most definitely not old," I teased.

"No, you know what I mean. We're all, like, real grown-ups now. With jobs, responsibilities… pretty soon everyone's gonna be married with kids. I mean, it looks like my dad's aged a decade since I've been gone."

"I don't think Mr. C. would appreciate you talking like that," I joked. "But I know what you mean."

"I'm glad you're the same," she told me. I wasn't quite sure how to react to that. Did she mean I looked the same? Acted the same? I was about to ask what she meant when she yawned, reminding me that she'd just gotten back from Africa and was probably exhausted and overwhelmed beyond belief.

"Hey, I should probably get going. You look like you haven't had a good night's sleep in way too long."

"I'm fine if you want to stay a little while."

"Nah, I really should head out." The flash of disappoint that crossed her face was clear. "I've got a couple deadlines creeping up." Not entirely true, but it certainly made me seem busy and important.

"Oh. Alright, well… I guess I'll see you…?"

"Soon," I told her. "Don't you worry." Disappointment was replaced by a smile.

"Come on, I'll walk you downstairs." We walked in silence. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been under this roof with her. Definitely not since she was in college, at the latest.

"Call me when you're settled and everything," I said. "Or if you need anything." She nodded and wrapped me in another big hug.

"I hope you haven't forgotten all about me while I've been away" she mumbled quietly, face in the crook of my neck.

"That could never, ever happen."

"Promise?"

"I promise."


End file.
